‘Well, remember when I got that sheet burn on the nose and pulled my groin and my fanny was on fire and you booked me an appointment with the doctor? Well, I thought he was the most arrogant ratbag I’d ever met. But then I sunburnt my bum and had to go back. It was hate at second sight, too. Then there was the abseiling accident, and jellyfish sting, and it was hate at third and fourth sight – or slight, actually, because we couldn’t stop bickering. But, well, turns out it was actually your whole basic Beatrice and Benedick Much Ado About Nothing scenario, because in Mare I got stranded with him on a broken windsurfer and, as he thought we might drown at sea, he let down his defences. And it turns out we laugh at the same jokes, we watch the same box sets, we love the same books . . . I never thought anything would happen between us. But it did. It has. And I’ve never felt more in love or more alive!’

I beamed at my older sisters, who were still just staring at me, mouths agape. Sensing they were not as pleased by this romantic turn of events as I’d hoped, I went in for a harder sell.

‘Brody’s capable, kind and brave – he worked for Doctors Without Borders, you know, risking life and limb, literally . . .’ I paused, but quickly decided that the whole leg issue was probably a detail too far at this juncture. ‘He’s single, never married, can cook, is emotionally articulate, plays the guitar, laughs at my silly jokes and loves cunnilingus. What’s not to love? I’ve landed on my feet – and my back – at the same time!’ I was now gushing more than a Texan oil well but it was such a relief to let it all pour out.

But still they stared.

‘I’ve never met anyone like him,’ I persisted. ‘He’s the sort of guy who can punch a crocodile to death, rip out its liver for dinner and then bivouac the night away under its flayed hide while trekking in the wilds of the Congo.’

‘The Congo? Who takes a holiday in the Congo?’ Emerald narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘Are you sure he’s not a fantasist?’

‘Where’s he from, this Doctor Love?’ Amber delved, distrust ringing in her voice. ‘Is he a Sydney boy?’

‘No, he’s from . . . out of town.’

‘Where? The Fifth Dimension?’ Emerald scoffed.

‘Maybe we should ask his care-in-the-community worker,’ Amber suggested, sarcastically.

‘A little town near Bundaberg,’ I said, not liking the way my big sisters were ganging up on me. Yes, I loved it when they agreed, but not when they agreed that I was wrong.